Burnt Memories
by purplepagoda
Summary: Hetty sends Sam, and Kensi on a mission to Brazil. When the return months later their partners are worried about their uncharacteristic behavior. It seems that both of them have things that they are hiding. Both of them have scars they don't want to talk about. Can their partners get them to open up? Or will they keep their secrets hidden forever?
1. Tip Of The Iceburg

He looks back at the woman that he has spent the past three and a half months with, undercover. She follows behind him, in the airport. She wears her dark hair pulled into a ponytail. Her eyes are covered with a pair of aviator shades.

She follows him towards the airport exit, thankful that they are finally home. They have spent the past three and a half months on one of the toughest missions they have been on yet. The mission managed to challenge them in every aspect possible. He walks ahead of her, with confidence, like always.

* * *

_They both feel a little nervous when they get called into Hetty's office on a Saturday. Against their will she forces them to have a seat. They stare at her, as she begins the conversation._

_"I have been contacted by some of my sources. There is an operation that they would like to have NCIS lead."_

_Sam looks at the younger woman, sitting to his right. He furrows his brow. She shrugs, and shoots him an equally questioning look._

_"I know that the two of you are not partners, and that you will need to adapt, but I have complete faith that the two of you can pull it off."_

_"What is the operation?" _

_"Extraction of a major terror cell. It will take time, and coordination of several government agencies. This cell is a major threat to us."_

_Kensi speaks up, "Why do you want Sam, and I to do the mission together?"_

_"Your skill sets are the most complimentary for this mission," Hetty explains._

_Sam cocks an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"_

_"You will need Kensi's language skills in order survive," Hetty begins._

_"He language skills? Are you saying there is something wrong with my language?" _

_"She speaks Portuguese," Hetty points out._

_"That is significant because?" Sam wonders._

_"It will be required to infiltrate the organization," Hetty tells him._

_"Ok, so why aren't you sending her partner with her?" Sam queries._

_"I need someone who can keep their cool. I need someone with a little more experience."_

_"Ok, what do we need to know?" Sam asks._

_"You will be headed to Brazil on the next flight."_

_Kensi's jaw drops, "Brazil?"_

_"Yes," Hetty slides a pair of manilla folders forward, "Here are your covers. Learn them quickly. Memorize the details. Your lies will keep you alive," she warns._

_Sam opens his and reads the name aloud, "Seth Brennan?"_

_Kensi furrows her brow. She looks up at her boss, "I think there is some sort of mistake here, Hetty. It lists my cover as Kasey Brennan."_

_"It is no mistake. You two will be going undercover as a married couple."_

* * *

When she finally makes it to her desk she dumps her bag on the ground. She sifts through piles of paperwork. The other members of the team are working on a case. Hetty debriefs her, and Sam. After their debriefing Kensi returns to her desk to collect her things. Before she can leave a familiar voice interrupts her.

"How was your mission?" Deeks questions.

She turns and looks at him, with her car keys in hand, and her bag on her shoulder.

"I don't want to talk about it," she answers.

"I understand. I am sure that you are jetlagged, and just want to get some rest. We can talk about it, later."

She shakes her head, "I don't want to talk about it, ever," she clarifies.

"It can't be that bad, you caught the guys."

"Deeks, please don't bring it up, anymore."

"Sorry."

"I am going to head home," she takes a step past him.

"That is cold. I don't even get a hug, or hey Deeks I missed you when I was in Brazil the past three and a half months."

"I'll see you later," she continues for the door.

* * *

Callen enters the building, as Kensi is exiting. He shoots a looks at Deeks.

"What is her problem? She wouldn't even speak to me."

"I don't know, maybe you should ask your partner. Maybe he knows."

Callen approaches Sam, who collects his belongings, "What is wrong with Kensi?"

He shrugs, "I don't know. All I know is that it was a rough operation."

"You want to tell me about it?"

Sam shakes his head, "Nah man, I want to go home and take a shower."

"How bad could it be? You caught the guys. Not to mention you got to spend three glorious months in Brazil," Deeks asks.

Sam shakes his head, "It was all work."

"Tell us about it."

Sam shakes his head, and looks at his partner, "I can't talk about it."

Callen steps aside, allowing Sam to walk past him. He too leaves the building.

* * *

Kensi tosses her bags into the back of her car. She climbs into the driver's seat, and locks the door. She turns the car on, and feels the ice cold a/c hit her. She buckles the seat belt, and feels relief that she is back where she belongs. She finally has her car back, but she questions if she will ever get her life back. She wonders if things will ever be the same. She shakes her head in doubt, some things cannot be erased. Things between her, and Sam, they would never be the same. She turns her music up full blast to drown out memories of the past few months. She backs out of her parking spot, and heads for home.

* * *

Sam tosses his belongings into the front seat. He turns on the car, buckles his seat belt, and speeds away from the building. As he turns up the radio he knows that the things that happened in Brazil can't be undone. He grips his steering wheel in anger, as he waits at a stop lie. He wishes that he had never accepted the mission. He feels completely drained emotionally, and physically exhausted.

* * *

When Kensi gets home she throws her bags on the floor. She takes a seat on the bed, with every intention of getting up, and taking a shower. She lies down on the bed for a moment to take in the sights, and sounds of home. She watches as her ceiling fan whirs around in a circle.

* * *

Sam heads straight for his shower, when he arrives home. He doesn't even take his bags out of the car. When he climbs out the shower he notices his tricep. He stares at the constant reminder in the mirror. A deep scar is etched into his tricep like a bad memory he wants so badly to shake. A memory he can't seem to rid from his mind. He knows from the look in her eyes over the past weeks, that this mission pushed her too far. He admits to himself, now that he is in the safety of his own home, that it pushed him too far too. Both of them did things they would never do again. Both of them made choices they would regret for the rest of their lives. All their bosses cared about was capturing these guys.

* * *

Kensi watches the fan spin in a circle. As her eyes grow heavy she knows that her life, and the life of her temporary partner will never be the same. She knows they won't discuss the unspeakable things they did, with their regular partners. They didn't even want to talk about it to each other. She falls asleep, before she can get her shower.


	2. Let It Burn

_They sit next to each other, at a dinner table. She eats slowly, more interested in watching the players at the table. Their anxiety levels are high, and their guns are aimed low. She gives Sam a subtle look as their target walks towards them. He stops in front of them, and flashes them a devilish smile. _

_"Mister, and Misses Brennan," he greets them, with a thick accent, "Come with me."_

_Without a second thought the tuck their guns away. They push their chairs out, and rise. Same plays the part. His hand slips into Kensi's. They follow their target into another room. Sam is dressed in a slick black suit with a neon green button down. Kensi is wearing a dress in the same shade of green. Their target leads them to a service elevator in the hotel. They say nothing as the doors close. The elevator begins to move. The targets presses the emergency stop button. Sam, and Kensi stand behind him. He turns around and looks at them, through his aviator shades._

_"The two of you really look the part of husband and wife. I have had a chance to go over your resumes. They are impressive, and I think that you will be a good fit for my organization."_

_Sam speaks up, "Is there a question in there, somewhere?"_

_He nods, "It seems to me like your marriage is one of convenience. You are together, because you are a threat to each other if you're apart. I need some proof."_

_Kensi furrows her brow. Their target looks to Sam, "I need proof that you love your wife."_

_"What kind of proof?"_

_The target smirks, "Just think of it as a test. If you pass you're in. You must understand that I am untrusting of newcomers. It is just my way of ensuring that you are who you say you are."_

_"Of course," Sam nods in agreement._

_The target turns around and flips the emergency stop off._

_"Where are we going?" Kensi questions._

_"The twelfth floor."_

_"I thought that floor was under construction," Sam comments._

_"It will offer more privacy," the target explains. _

* * *

She climbs out of the shower, and reaches for a towel. She wraps one towel around her wet hair. She uses the other to wrap around her body. No matter how long she's gone, she always appreciates getting home to her own shower, and her own bed. She appreciates being home at all, after her last mission. She wipes the mirror off. She glances at her reflection in the mirror. In her eyes there is a hollowness that wasn't as prominent before. There is a pair of dark circles under her eyes. She looks as if she has been gone three years, instead of just over three months. She reaches down to adjust her towel. Her fingers hesitate on her chest, over her heart. She looks down at the abnormality on her skin. She traces the outline with her fingers. The edges are raised. She swallows hard trying not to flash back to the day she received her this new scar.

She shakes her head, it's not a scar, it's a brand. No, literally, she reminds herself. As she touches the area on her chest she it's almost as if she can feel the hot metal pressing into her skin again. Like a cow she's been branded. The thought brings the memory of smelling seared flesh, to her mind.

She tries not tot let her mind wander too far, but she can't help it. Over three months in a foreign country, with a successful mission. Unfortunately it didn't come without scars, or memories she'll never be able to forget. The memories of the operation plague her. Her mind fills with thoughts of regrets, and actions that she can't take back.

* * *

He sits on the couch, in a silent house. The house is too quiet, after months, and months of stimulation, and attention to every detail. He stares at the coffee table. He leans forward, and reaches for his phone. As he picks up the phone he realizes that it isn't his usual phone. He remembers it is his burn phone, the one he has been using for the mission, and forgotten to return to Hetty to be destroyed. In fact he can't recall, off the top of his head where his phone is. He unlocks the screen of the phone, and scrolls through the contacts. He looks at one in complete disappointment. It reads;_ Wife_. But it isn't his wife. It's Kensi's phone number. Or, rather Kasey's number.

He feels guilty when he thinks about all the wrong turns their operation took. He feels a sense of disappointment for the ways that he let her down. He knows that she will be happy to get back to her partner. He recalls her behavior from earlier in the day. He quickly realizes it isn't congruent with what he expected. She is angrier than he thought she would be. She didn't react to her partner the way he thought that she would. He wonders if there is something she isn't telling him. He dials her number.

* * *

She opens the bathroom door. She heads into the bedroom, towards the ringing phone. She is happy to return to her life, and her own phone. She reaches for the phone. She lifts it off the nightstand.

"Kensi," she answers.

"It's me," he responds.

"Do you need something?" she asks, coldly.

"I was just checking to make sure you made it home, safely."

"Yeah," she confirms.

"Good."

"Sam, why are you really calling?"

"I think that we should talk. I know there are things we both need to get off our chests."

"No."

"Kens..." he tries to reason with her.

"I'm fine Sam," she lies.

"I still want to talk."

"Not now," she insists.

"Fine, I'll see you at work, tomorrow."

"I won't be there."

"What do you mean, you won't be there? You live for the job. What's going on?"

"Nothing is going on. I just took a few days off. I have things that I need to take care of."

"What things?"

"Errands, and shit," she responds with an attitude.

"Fine, whatever."

She hangs up the phone.

* * *

_He looks at their target it utter disbelief. He looks at Kensi, who has a gun pointed to her head. He shakes his head._

_"You want me to do what?" Sam questions._

_"Brand her. I want you to put my organization's seal into her skin, forever," he answers, handing Sam a hot branding iron._

_"You want me to brand my wife, as yours?"_

_"She is your wife, but you are both my property. I don't want you to forget that."_

_"So let her brand me."_

_"I want you to look at your wife, and know that I own you both."_

_"What happens if I don't?" Sam questions._

_"I will do it, and I won't have any mercy."_

_Sam looks at Kensi. Her eyes plead with him to get them out of this situation. They both know they can't blow their cover this early in the game._

_Their target continues, "If you can't do it, just remember her freshly branded skin will be superb when they find her dead body in the trunk of a car, at the bottom of a ravine."_


	3. Burnt Flesh

She stands in the middle of her closet, with her pajama's on. She sorts through her clothes, looking for a shirt that will be appropriate. She quickly realizes how many of her t-shirts are v-necks, or a little too low cut. Finally she finds a plain black t-shirt, with a regular neckline, that won't reveal too much. She isn't worried about cleavage. She is worried about having to explain herself, and her new body art. She shakes her head, in disbelief, at her own thoughts, it is far from art, she reminds herself. It is a painful reminder of a mission gone wrong.

Or right, according to NCIS. The bottom line is always what matters. She and Sam accomplished what they set out to do. She grabs her car keys, and slips her phone into her pocket. She puts on her sunglasses, and heads for the door. As she opens the door, she finds a familiar face standing on the sidewalk. She furrows her brow, in confusion.

"Hetty what are you doing here?" she questions as she closes the door behind her.

"I thought that I could talk to you."

"It is my day off, can it wait?"

Hetty shakes her head, "No."

"I have things I need to do."

"I will make it brief," Hetty promises.

"Ok," Kensi nods.

"I am concerned that you decided to take time off, immediately after returning from this mission. Usually you are eager to get started on the next case."

"It has been a long few months, and I just need a couple of days to recharge. It is nothing personal."

"I didn't think that it was. I am just concerned that you are burnt out."

"I'm fine," she insists.

"Miss Blye, what happened in Brazil?"

"Hetty I don't want to talk about it," she answers.

"You accomplished your mission, but I get the feeling that it left you, and Mister Hanna with a few scars."

"Doesn't every mission?" Kensi counters.

"Don't shut everyone out, ok?"

"I am fine, Hetty."

"You were awfully cold to your partner, yesterday."

"I was jetlagged."

Hetty shakes her head, "That is no excuse. You are used to travel. There is something more."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"At some point you will, and my door is always open."

"Hetty I have a dentist appointment I don't to be late."

"I heard that you chipped your tooth."

"Not while we were on the mission. I chipped my tooth at the airport on a piece of candy."

"By all means go," Hetty steps aside, so Kensi can pass her on the sidewalk.

Hetty watches her, in silence as she moves towards the Cadillac SRX sitting in front of the house.

* * *

Callen finds his partner atop the rock wall. He looks at him, from below. He can tell without a single word that something is bothering him. He knows it is too soon to ask. Some wounds need time to heal.

"Sam, why don't you come down from there, I'll buy your breakfast?"

"I'll come down, but I'm not hungry."

Callen watches, as Sam climbs down the wall. He disconnects his gear, and hangs it up where it belongs. Sam wears a fitted t-shirt. Callen notices the scar on his arm. He points to his tricep.

"What happened, there?"

"Nothing, it is worse than it looks," Sam admits.

"It looks as if it's had a while to heal."

"I got it not long after we got to Brazil."

"What happened?"

Sam shakes his head, "Nothing."

"Did you get a tetanus shot?"

"It's just superficial."

"Just superficial? I can see that it is more than superficial."

"Don't worry about it, G."

"What's going on with you?"

Sam shakes his head, "What do you mean?"

"You aren't saying anything."

"I am just tired."

"Tired? You should be completely pumped up. You just brought down a major terrorist cell, and drug cartel."

"I know."

Callen notices Sam's sullen tone. "So why are you so down?"

"I'm not."

"Then tell me what's eating at you."

"You know that after every mission you think about all the things you would have done differently."

"What would you have done differently?" Callen questions.

"It doesn't matter, it's over now. I'm just glad to be home."

"Have you talked to Michelle?"

"Not yet," he shakes his head.

* * *

_They return to their hotel room hours after they left it for dinner. Their evening has been far from what they planned. While they have proven that they have what it takes, in order to gain access to the organization, they are both emotionally drained. He closes the door behind them. She takes a seat on the edge of the bed. He makes a sweep of the room for bugs. He finds two, and smashes them both. He locks the door, and then moves towards her. She grimaces in pain. _

_He takes a seat next to her, on the bed. She doesn't make eye contact. He looks over at her. He knows that they still may be under surveillance. He makes sure to maintain their cover._

_"Kasey?"_

_She doesn't answer him. _

_He reaches out, and touches her dress. _

_"Kasey, take your dress off."_

_"I'm fine," she lies, with a look of agony on her face._

_"Kasey just let me look at it," he begs._

_The color drains from her face as she looks over at him, still not making eye contact._

_"I can't," she admits._

_"Why not?"_

_She shakes her head, "No, I literally can't."_

_"Ok. I'll help you."_

_She stands up. She doesn't object as he carefull unzips the back of her dress. He carefully lifts each strap off her shoulder one at a time. He pulls the front of the dress forward, gently, lifting it away from her skin. He lets the dress fall to the floor. He leaves the room briefly, returning with ice. He locks the door, and heads into the bathroom. He grabs a washcloth, and runs it under the sink using cool water. He wraps some ice inside of it. He sits next to her, on the bed once again._

_"This is going to hurt."_

_She clenches her jaw, but doesn't admit that she is in pain. He gently presses the cloth to her freshly branded chest. She winces as he does so._


	4. Cold Hearted

He looks over at his partner. Kensi sits at her desk, in silence. She refuses to make eye contact with him. It's the first day she's been to work, since her return from Brazil. Things between them have been quiet. She's been quiet. In fact, she has been uncharacteristically quiet. He knows she is aware of him looking at her, but she chooses to ignore him, as she focuses on her paperwork. He looks at his watch.

"Why are you worrying about paperwork? You just got back, and we haven't had a case yet."

"I am just trying to get back into the swing of things," she insists.

"Why are you being so weird?"

She rolls her eyes, and pushes her chair away from her desk. She walks away, without a word.

"Where are you going?" he questions.

She doesn't answer, she just keeps walking. She leaves the room, and leaves him hanging.

She washes her hands, in the bathroom sink. She feels as if she can never rid her mind of the things that she's seen, the things she's done. If only it was all as simple as washing the dirt off your hands.

Her entire life has been about duty. It is the only thing she has even known. Working to protect her country has never bothered her before. She shakes her head, but then again, things have never before gone so wrong. As she looks at herself in the mirror she wonders if she can figure out how to deal with it all, before it consumes her.

* * *

After work, they decide to go out, for drinks. Not a celebration, just a welcome back. Kensi leaves after less than an hour. Her partner is the first to notice her gone. He shakes his head, and looks at the rest of the team. He stares at the empty stool, next to him, in disbelief.

"Where the hell did she go?" Marty wonders.

Callen shrugs, "I don't know."

"What happened in Brazil?"

"I'll go after her," Sam answers, without answering Deeks question.

Sam steps out of the bar, into the night air. He heads into the parking lot. He makes a beeline for her car. He catches her just as she is opening the car door. She slides into the driver's seat of her vehicle. He grabs the car door, before she can pull it closed. She looks up at him, and clenches her jaw. Her nostrils flare, too.

"Where are you going?"

She shakes her head, "Anywhere but here."

"Kensi we are part of a team. The team wants to welcome us back. They missed us. You are being rude."

"Look, Sam I totally appreciate that."

"Then why are you leaving?"

"Because I can't deal with them right now."

"Kensi we just got back. We have to make an effort to get back our normal lives."

She shakes her head, in disbelief, "Were you not on the same mission I was?"

"Yeah, but if you spend all of you time dwelling on what happened, you are never going to be able to move on."

"Sam there are some things that I just can't forget."

"I know."

"I am not ok with what happened there."

"Kensi it's ok."

She shakes her head, "It is not ok. None of it is ok."

"Why are you having such a hard time with this? We did what we had to. We will soldier on, just like we always do. It will all become a distant memory before we know it."

"What about the scars?"

"Scars heal?"

She cocks her head, and reaches for the door handle. "Sam let me go."

"I told you then, and I'll tell you now, it's not a good idea."

"Don't even go there," she warns.

"Maybe you should re-evaluate whether you want to be on this team at all."

"NCIS is my life."

"Then get your head right."

"How can you be so totally unaffected by all of this?"

"I'm not, but I have a job to do. I have to be here for my team, for my partner. I am not going to let something happen to my partner, because I am distracted by some bullshit that happened in Brazil."

"Let me go," she begs.

He lets go of her door. She slams it shut. He steps back, and she speed out of the parking lot. He understands why she is so angry. He just can't seem to understand why she is secretly questioning her desire to stay at NCIS, or maybe he does.

She turns up the stereo, as she pulls out of the parking lot. Her speakers blast through the radio, as she rolls down the windows. She pulls up to a stop light. Before she can hit the gas, to accelerate through the green light the memories hit her like a ton of bricks.

* * *

_They have been undercover for over three months now. She stares at her target, face to face. He presses a gun against her head. He chides her._

_"I can't believe how you betray me. You put him over my organization"_

_He jabs his finger into her chest, "Remember I own you. Have you forgotten?"_

_She doesn't answer. He points to her gun, on the floor. _

_"Pick it up," he barks._

_She squats down, with her back never turning towards him. She picks up the gun, and stares at her partner. Sam lies on the ground, only semi conscious a combination of the drugs that they have given him, and injuries he has sustained. Her target pushes her forward with his foot. She nearly falls on top of Sam._

_"I want you to put your gun against his chest."_

_"I can't."_

_"If you love him, prove it. If you love him, more than this organization I want you to prove it."_

_"He is my husband!"_

_"Then, put him out of his misery."_

_She looks at him. He is bleeding from a rather large gash to the head. The target presses the barrel of his .44 caliber semi-automatic weapon to the back of Kensi's head._

_"If you love him show me. Be merciful, put him out of his misery."_

_"That is not mercy," she insists._

_"Do it, now," he cocks his weapon._

_She hesitates. The target puts his finger on the trigger. Sam's hand reaches towards Kensi. He grabs her hand, and presses it to his chest. It takes every bit of strength that she has not to cry. As Sam's other hand reaches up the trigger is pressed. She falls backwards as the gun fires. _


	5. Ice Cold

_The gun lays next to Sam. Kensi presses her hand against his chest. The target steps forward to have a closer look. The blood flows from the fresh wound. Kensi keeps pressure, but her composure disappears. She breaks down, and begins to cry. Their target reaches for Sam's carotid to check his pulse, knowing it should be growing weak, and thready. Kensi's hands are covered in blood. Her gun lies next to Sam's body. _

_In the next instant everything changes. Before she even knows what is happening Sam grabs the gun. He doesn't hesitate. He pulls the trigger, without a second thought. The target falls to the floor, with a bullet to the shoulder._

_"Weapon!" Sam calls out._

_Kensi takes the target's weapon as he falls. The rest of the alphabet soup joins them, seconds later. They break down the door, and enter the room. They place the suspect in custody. Kensi stares at Sam in disbelief. He sits up, disoriented, but alive. He rips his shirt off, revealing the fake blood. Kensi looks at her weapon on the floor._

_"How?" she questions._

_"I heard from other members of the organization how he operates, if crossed. I loaded your gun with one blank."_

_"What if I had fired it before?"_

_"It doesn't matter."_

_"Sam I shot you. You could be dead right now."_

_"But I'm not."_-

* * *

She has never doubted that she has the capability to kill another human being. Life as a Marine, as an NCIS agent proved it. The thought of killing one of her own, that is what she has a hard time dealing with. She swallows back tears as she pulls into her driveway. She puts the car in park, and leans against the steering wheel. The thought of killing one of her own team, that makes her question everything that she has ever stood for.

The feeling of uncertainty makes her cringe. She sits in the car for ten minutes before she ever attempts to get out. She knows when she goes inside she will continue with her daily routine. When she lays her head down, tonight she still won't sleep. No matter how hard she tries it doesn't come. When it does it is brief, and always full of nightmares. Nightmares based in reality, because shooting her partner, is not even close to the worst sin she committed while in Brazil. As terrible that night was, it wasn't the worst one there. Some things you just can't take back.

* * *

He sits in the driver's seat of his car. He thinks about his wife, and how good it will be to see her face again. On the same token, he knows that when she sees his she will see the broken pieces he is trying to hide from the world. He tries to pretend that the events that occurred in Brazil don't bother him, but it's far from the truth. He worries that Kensi will never be able to forgive him for the things that he did. He worries he can never forgive himself for the things he did. Most of all he worries she can't forgive him for them.

It is funny how much three months can change two people. It not only makes them older, but it makes them colder, too. He knows that Hetty paired them up for a lot of reasons. He just wishes she hadn't chosen him. In hindsight he wishes she hadn't chosen either of them. Hetty knows them both too well to know that neither one of them would have declined.

Hours later he's still awake. He lies in bed staring at the ceiling. He knows that she's not sleeping either. He can't get his mind off of her.

* * *

She rolls our of the bed, and heads towards the sound of someone beating on her door. She looks at the clock, on her way out of the bedroom. She trudges through the living room, to the door. She checks the peephole, and pulls the door open.

"What are you doing here?"

"Can we talk?" he begs.

"It's late Sam."

"Just for a minute."

"Fine," she folds her arms across her chest.

"Can I come in."

She simply nods, and steps aside. He closes the door, and looks at her.

"What are you doing here?" she repeats.

"We should talk."

"I told you that I don't want to talk."

"We have to, if we are ever going to move on."

"You're not my partner anymore. Our lives are back to normal. What is there to talk about?"

"You know what there is to talk about."

"Sam I put my gun into your chest, and pulled the trigger. I shot you. I don't think that I am ever going to be ok with that. I was weak. I betrayed you. I chose myself over you. I don't know how you can ever trust me again."

"You didn't shoot to kill. Kensi I knew what his game was. I had control of the situation."

"Really? You had control of the situation from the spot you were lying on the ground, half way conscious."

"Yes."

"Sam it doesn't make it ok."

"You didn't hurt me. It was a blank."

"I didn't know that."

"It doesn't matter. You did what you had to."

"I made a shitty choice. Why can't you just let me revel in that? Why can't you just let me feel bad about that?"

He shakes his head, "Because I did hurt you. I allowed our target to bind your hands so that I could brand you. I pressed a hot iron against your flesh, and branded you. That isn't ok. I don't think you should feel bad because you fake shot me. I am the only one who should feel badly. My wound was superficial and it pretty much already healed. What I did to you, you are going to have that scar for the rest of your life."

"Sam..." she tries to reason with him.

"Kensi just let it go."

"Why can't you?"

He stares at her t-shirt. He gently places his hand on the left side of her chest.

"Because of that."

"You did what you had to for the mission."

"So did you," she insists.

"We both did. We both made some mistakes."

"Sam I don't want to talk about this, anymore."

"My point it we both screwed up, but we have to learn to live with it."

She shakes her head, "I don't know if I can."

"And to live with ourselves."

"How am I supposed to look myself in the mirror everyday, and be ok with the fact that I pressed a gun to your chest? I pulled the trigger on a loaded gun. I shot you with what I thought was a regular round. I thought that I killed you. How am I ever supposed to live with that?"

"Kensi we're both alive that is all that matters."

"Is it?"


	6. Firebrand

It's been two weeks since Sam, and Kensi have returned from Brazil. Kensi is still eerily quiet, and even though her partner doesn't want to push he knows that it is time to make her start opening up. They've just left the crime scene. Deeks takes the opportunity to talk to her, while he has her trapped in the car. As per usual she mans the driver's seat. He looks over at her. She stares at the road, with an intense focus. He can nearly see the shield that she's built up around herself over the past months. Instead of being overbearing, bossy, and possessive most of the time she is quiet, and subdued for the most part, now. He clears his throat.

"Kens?"

"Yeah?" she responds without making eye contact.

"Are you ok?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" she wonders.

"First of all I didn't want to say anything, but lately you look like shit," he begins, instantly regretting this statement as an opener.

She briefly looks over at him, shooting him a look, "Thank you so much for your support," she answers, bitterly.

"I just mean that you look tired," he admits thinking of the dark circles under her eyes.

"I don't really sleep," she admits.

"I got that."

"Deeks can we talk about this later?"

"Nope."

"We should be talking about the case."

"I think that Hetty will forgive us for not talking about the case on the fifteen minute ride back to HQ."

"I don't really feel like talking."

"You never feel like talking."

"Then why are you trying to have a conversation if you know that I don't want to talk?"

"Because I am your partner, and sometimes I have to push you when you don't want to be."

"Your job is to support me. It's your duty to back me up."

"Kensi I know that."

"Then why are we talking about it?"

"Because since you got back I get the feeling that you don't want to be here anymore."

"Maybe I don't," she reveals.

"Since when?"

She shrugs, "I just have a lot on my mind, ok?"

"Kensi what happened in Brazil?"

"I already told you that I don't want to talk about it."

"I am your partner. You can trust me."

"I never said that I couldn't."

"Then talk to me. Tell me what happened."

"A lot of things happened."

"For example?"

"I shot Sam," she finally begins to open up.

"What?!"

"I shot him."

"On accident?" he queries.

"On purpose."

"Why?"

"To kill him," she replies, coldly.

"To kill him? I don't understand."

"Our target put a gun to my head. Sam, and I were undercover as a married couple."

"A couple of what?" Deeks raises an eyebrow.

"Ex military contractors."

"Mercenaries?"

"Basically," she confirms.

"So what happened?"

"He put a gun to my head, and told me to prove that I loved my husband. He told me to put him out of his misery. It was a test. Everything he put us through was a test."

"You mean you almost shot him?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"You missed?"

"No. I shot him in the chest at point blank range. My gun caused friction burns on his chest."

"He had a vest on?" Deeks assumes.

Kensi shakes her head, "No."

"He had to. He's still here. If you shot him at point blank range he would be dead."

"It was a blank round."

"So? Kensi that isn't a big deal. You shot him with a blank round. You probably saved his life, and yours too."

Kensi shakes her head, she avoids eye contact, at all costs, "Sam loaded my gun that day. We were in a hurry, so I let him load my magazine. I didn't know that it was a blank."

"You shot him in the chest with a gun, and what you thought was a live round?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Why?"

"Because I had to. I had to buy time for back up to arrive. It was the only chance of either of us making it out alive."

"You should have told me, I would have understood."

She shakes her head, "Deeks there are a lot of things that you are never going to understand."

"Kensi I am your partner, you should have told me."

"There are things I can't tell even you," she says, coldly.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she stops at a traffic light.

"What is with the change in wardrobe?"

"What do you mean?" she keeps her eyes on the stoplight.

"You are dressing more conservatively lately. Are you trying to hide something?"

"Aren't we all?"

"What are you trying to hide, exactly?" he continues with his line of questioning.

"Let's just say that I probably won't be wearing tank tops ever, again."

"What happened?"

"I've just got a gnarly scar now."

"Can I see?"

"No."

* * *

Deeks, and Sam are the last ones there that night. They head out the doors within seconds of each other. Deeks exits the building and catches up with Sam.

"Hey can I ask you something?" Deeks wonders.

"Yeah," Sam confirms.

"How did it happen?"

Sam cocks an eyebrow, "What happen?"

"She told me everything."

"What do you mean?"

"She said she couldn't wear a tank top anymore."

"She told you about her brand?!"

Deeks stops dead in his tracks. He wears a puzzled look. He keeps his eyes locked on Sam. "Brand? She was branded? She just told me she had a gnarly scar."

"Obviously I've said too much."


	7. Frozen

_Kensi's back leans against a pillar. Her hands are bound. She's gagged. Her skin is freshly seared by a branding iron. She writhes in pain. The target approaches her. He moves in close. He stops with his lips pressed next to her ear. He whispers something in her ear. Sam watches in horror, as her eyes widen. Without a second thought he steps forward. He quickly puts himself between Kensi, and the target. The target smiles a reptilian smirk. _

_"Tell him."_

_Kensi remains silent. She looks at Sam. Her eyes plead with him. His heart aches for her, wondering what torture their target has dreamed up for her, next. She remains silent. _

_"Just remember it's less painful if I watch," he taunts her._

_Sam turns around ,and looks at the target. "Watch what?" he raises his voice, "You already watched me brand her."_

_"I like to use a belt," the target adds._

_Sam's nostrils flare. "What kind of sick bastard are you?" _

_"The kind that you want to be employed by."_

_"No job is worth this," Sam argues._

_"Half a million each, if you work out your one year contract. You will get it in four installments. That is nothing to laugh at."_

_"This is insane."_

_The target takes a step closer to Sam. "Show me how much you love your wife, or I'll show you how much I want to make her my bitch."_

* * *

She sits up, in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. As she sits up she gasps for air. She coughs, and sputters trying to catch her breath. She looks over at the alarm clock. She's been asleep for an hour. She doesn't have to be at work for nearly four. She can feel her heart beating rapidly as her reality once again finds its way into her nightmares. She presses her hand against her chest.

At home, alone, in the privacy of her own room she wears a tank top to sleep in. She pushes the strap aside, and compulsively traces the pattern of the scar. Though it has been more than four months, it is still painful to think about. Every time she touches it, she is reminded of her reality. She has to face the painful truth. After a while she drifts back to sleep. Her sleep is restless, and sporadic. She wakes an hour before the alarm is set to go off. She quickly dresses, and heads outside for a run, before sunrise.

* * *

He's known about her being branded for weeks now. He has still said nothing. This morning as he watches her, he notices how much her behavior has changed. She isn't the same person she was when she left. She is still as skilled as ever. She is an incredible agent, but he can see that her self-confidence is waning. It is slowly being replaced by doubt, and a hint of uncertainty. She's in the gym beating the daylights out of the punching bag. He puts the weight back on the rack. He walks over to her. He says nothing. He steps behind the bag, to hold it.

"Kensi," he tries to bring her back to reality.

She comes back to reality, "Huh?"

"You're about to beat the stuffing out of this bag," he comments.

She looks at the bag, "Oh."

"Why don't you go cool off?"

"I'm fine," she insists.

He looks around the gym, it's just the two of them. He points to the bench.

"Have a seat," he begs.

She takes a seat, against her will. He hands her a towel, and takes a seat next to her.

"I know."

She shakes her head, "Know what?"

"About the scar."

"I told you about the scar."

"I said something to Sam. He assumed that you told me everything."

"What do you mean, everything?"

"He thought that you told me about getting branded."

"I don't want to talk about it. It wasn't Sam's place to tell you."

"He didn't know. It was a mistake."

"Deeks just drop it."

"He didn't tell me how it happened."

"Good."

"Kensi, I am asking you, how did it happen?"

"It was sort of like an initiation."

"Oh."

"Except our target wanted to put a cruel twist on it."

"What to do you mean?" his heart drops.

"He made Sam do it."

"How bad can it be?" he wonders.

* * *

_Sam returns to the hotel room, with a bag from the local drugstore. Kensi is laying on the bed, with ice on her fresh wound. He gently lifts the ice off her chest. He gently wipes the area with peroxide. He grabs a non stick bandage out of the bag. Before applying the bandage he squirts triple antibiotic all over it. He gently places it over the area on her chest. The dressing barely covers the area of branded skin. He carefully applies tape around the edges. _

_The fact that Kensi isn't arguing, or fighting him tells her that she is in excruciating pain. He hands her a bottle of Tylenol. She sits up. She has the sudden realization that she's in nothing more than a bra and pair of panties. She looks up at Sam._

_"Don't worry about it."_

_"I tried to put on a shirt," she admits._

_"I can help you," he offers, trying to be a good partner._

_"It is all I can stand to have a dressing on. A t-shirt would hurt too much."_

_"Kasey..."_

_"I'll be fine. We start tomorrow, so I have to be."_

_"We don't have to do this," he reminds her._

_"It's too late to go back now.," she insists._

_"No it's not. If this was the initiation who knows what else he has in store for us."_

_"I don't plan on finding out."_

_"We can do this. How hard can it be?"_

_"I've been through worse," she lies._

_He looks at his partner. His words cut him like a knife, as he makes the realization she's lying. He is the toughest woman he knows. He is proud to be her partner, he feels evenly matched. _


	8. Hot Mess

She looks at her partner, and answers, "Have you ever had something happen that made you question everything you thought you knew?"

"Yeah," he nods.

"That's where I am."

"You're questioning whether or not you want to be here?"

"This has been my life. This has been my home. You guys have become my family."

"But?"

"Some days I am just not sure that it's worth it. I am doing all of this, and for what? What am I proving?"

He doesn't have an answer to give her.

* * *

She crawls into bed that night, and flips on the TV. She can't find anything to watch, so she flips on the lamp, and switches off the TV. She doesn't reach for the book on her bedside stand. She just leans against the headboard, in silence. She thinks about the events of the past months. She thinks about the near death experiences, and the scars. And her mind wonders to the secrets that she keeps inside. She tries to remain strong as allows herself to think of the things she hides from everyone. Everyday her secrets grow heavy, her burden gets harder to carry. All she wants to do is cry. She clenches her jaw, trying to hold off the tears.

She enters the office, quietly, closing the door behind her. She finds Hetty sitting behind her desk. Kensi slides into the chair across the desk from her boss.

"Miss Blye to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Hetty I don't think that I can do this, anymore."

"Miss Blye I know that it is easy to get discouraged. I know these past few months have been difficult for you. You have proven yourself, and it does not go unnoticed. We appreciate you more than you will ever know."

"I don't know if that is enough."

Hetty furrows her brow, "What are you saying, Miss Blye?"

"I don't know if I want to be here, anymore."

"At NCIS? You were made for this job. Why are you having doubts now?"

"Things change. People change."

"Miss Blye you haven't been very forthcoming with me about what happened in Brazil."

"I am fairly certain that I gave you my report."

"We both know that your report does not include every detail about the operation."

"It has all of the pertinent information."

Hetty shakes her head, "I don't care about the target. I care about you. What happened to you, in Brazil?"

"Nothing I can't survive."

"For example?"

"I should go, Deeks is waiting on me."

"He can wait."

"He shouldn't have to," Kensi pushes out her chair. She turns, and leaves the room, without another word.

* * *

Callen looks over at Sam, as they head towards a crime scene. Sam doesn't make eye contact. Callen has watched him over the past weeks. He can tell something is wrong, but until now he hasn't asked. He has been waiting for his partner to bring it up. Finally he decides that it's time to start asking.

"Sam?"

"Yeah," he responds.

Callen looks at Sam's tricep, "What happened to your arm?"

"Just a battle scar," he answers, without a smile.

"A battle scar. What happened?"

"You know how it goes when you're in the middle of an intense operation. You get scrapes, an bruises, and you don't even know how, or when they happened."

"That scar is pretty deep. I doubt that you would acquire that without knowing."

"It was nothing really," Sam insists.

"Then enlighten me."

* * *

_He is working a lead for their target. He, and Kensi are at a bar. He flashes his smile as they approach. Kensi plays along. Sam motions for the bartender. The young woman approaches._

_"I'm looking for Cristo."_

_She shoots him a questioning look. _

_"I am supposed to meet him here."_

_"Cristo?" she questions._

_Kensi watches her, as she reaches under the counter. The bar is pretty well packed. The bartender grabs a phone. She dials a number, and briefly speaks to someone on the other end. She hangs up, and looks at Sam._

_"He will be out in a minute," she confirms. _

_Cristo comes out, and escorts them to his office. He closes the door, behind them._

_"What is this about?"_

_"My boss mister Princeton sent me," Sam explain._

_Cristo nods, "Yes, I see that. What is with the girl?"_

_He looks over at Kensi, "She is my partner."_

_"Your partner. Are you expecting trouble?"_

_"Just an insurance policy."_

_"For what?" Cristo questions, coyly._

_"I have come to collect payment for the merchandise that your purchased."_

_"I have not had the chance to use my merchandise," Cristo insists._

_"Today is when the payment is due, it is non-negotiable."_

_"I see," Cristo reaches into his desk, "I have the payment right here._

_Kensi's hand instinctively reaches for her weapon. Before she can unholster Cristo stabs Sam in the arm with a letter opener. He heads out the window. Kensi looks at her partner who is bleeding._

_"I'm fine. Go after him!"_

* * *

Callen shakes his head in disbelief, "You got stabbed with a letter opener?"

"Yeah. It almost hit bone. I had to have a tetanus shot, and seven stitches."

"Did you catch the guy?"

"Kensi did. She gave him a bloody nose, and broke his cheekbone. We also were able to obtain payment. It was pretty successful."

"Except for the part where he stabbed you with a letter opener?"


	9. Left Out In The Cold

She rolls out of bed, and starts her morning ritual. She gets dressed, and pull on a pair of running shoes. She secures her Ipod in the armband on her left arm. She zips her keys into the pocket of her shorts. She leaves her house, and starts on her run. It's early, barely four thirty a.m. as she starts running down the block. She turns the Ipod up to drown out the sound of her own thoughts, but it doesn't work the way he planned. It never does.

As she makes it to the next block she wonders what she is running from. She has always enjoyed running, but never this much. With each passing day her morning runs seem to get just a couple minutes longer. She now up to two hours. She runs because she can't sleep. She can't sleep, because she refuses to deal with what she is running from. She rounds a corner, still consumed by her own thoughts. She reminds herself that it is difficult to run away, when the person you are running from is yourself.

By fifteen after six she is nearly home. She runs through the park, towards her house, having opted to take the scenic route this morning. She runs past other people in the park. A man in his forties who has clearly been running since he was in middle school cross country. A young woman trying to get off a couple extra pounds. A man who appears to be training for a marathon. Kensi passes him, too. She passes a woman, with a jogging stroller, and a baby. She passes all of them by, and heads to the exit of the park. She keeps running, with her thoughts churning, until she makes it home.

When she steps in the door she takes the armband off. She tosses her keys on the stand in the entry way. She heads towards her bedroom. Without much thought she grabs clothing out of the closet. She heads to the shower, but her thoughts still don't switch off, even as she turns the shower on. She doesn't dawdle in the shower. She quickly washes off the sweat from a two hour run, and washes her hair. She finishes up, and climbs out of the shower. She wraps herself in a towel, and dries her hair. She finishes with the rest of her morning routine in the bathroom. She gets dressed, and leaves the room.

On her way out the door she grabs a banana from the kitchen. She snatches her keys of the stand she left them on, and leaves the house, locking the door behind her. She unlocks the car door, and climbs inside. She puts the key in the ignition, locking the door, before the vehicle is even in gear. She turns up the car stereo, and heads for work.

On her way into the building her partner is on his way out. She shoots him a questioning look. She looks down at the phone in her hand. It indicates she has missed no calls or text messages. He continues towards her.

"Where are you going?" she inquires.

"We've got a case."

"You didn't call."

He looks at his watch, "Seven twenty five, like clock work. Kensi, I didn't feel the need to call you. I knew that you would be here. You are always here, at the same time, every day."

"Oh."

"You ready?"

"Yeah," she nods.

They climb into her vehicle. He closes the door, and reads her the address. She pulls out of her parking space. He studies her carefully. As she pulls out of the parking lot she looks over at him. She studies his expression, and then turns her eyes back to the road.

"What are you staring at me for?"

"What is with all of the black?"

She looks down, for a moment at her black t-shirt, and pair of jeans.

"It's just a t-shirt," she points out, shifting her focus to the road.

He shakes his head, "What is with all the black, lately? It seems like it is the only color you wear."

"I don't question your wardrobe choices, and they can be pretty questionable."

"Seriously Kensi, we are talking about you."

"It was clean, that is why I am wearing it."

"So is black the only color you own right now?"

"No, why?"

"That is all you seem to wear. Are you in mourning or something?"

"Mourning? What would I be mourning?"

He shrugs, "I don't know, you tell me."

"I am not in mourning," she argues.

"Did someone die?"

She furrows her brow, but avoids eye contact, "Nobody died."

"Then what are you mourning?"

"I am not mourning anything," she argues.

"So explain the black to me."

"There is nothing to explain. I just like black. I have several items of black clothing, and it just happens to be clean. Get off my case."

* * *

7AM the following morning; The entire team stands around Deeks desk. The entire team, except for Kensi. Hetty reaches the bottom of the stairs. She is the last to join them.

"Are you having a team meeting you have forgotten to tell me about?" Hetty questions.

"No, Hetty, we just didn't think you would want to be a part of this particular team meeting," Deeks admits.

"What is it about?" Hetty wonders.

"Kensi," Callen reveals.

"Why are you holding a meeting about Miss Blye, without her present?" Hetty inquires.

"Because we're all worried about her," Deeks explains.

"And we're just trying to figure out what is going on with her," Callen adds.

"Then why don't you just ask her?" Hetty suggests.

"Because I have, and she won't open up," Deeks points out.

"So instead of supporting your partner, in whatever it is that she is going through, you are having a meeting behind her back?" Hetty tries to get a clearer picture of the situation.

"I don't have a choice," Deeks insists.

"You always have a choice," Sam mutters under his breath.

"Something you would like to add Mister Hanna?" Hetty probes.

He looks up, "No."

Deeks makes eye contact with him. "Sam maybe there is something that you know, that we don't."

"I doubt that," he argues.

"You were there," Deeks reminds him.

Sam shakes his head in disbelief, "If there is something that Kensi wants you to know she is completely capable of telling you herself."

"But she won't. I am worried about her. She isn't herself lately."

Sam glares at Deeks, "Then just be a good partner. Support her, and stop trying to get to the bottom of everything. If she wants you to know what it is that is bothering her she will let you know."

"Why are you taking her side?" Deeks wonders.

"Because there were a lot of things that happened in Brazil that would traumatize anyone. You should just leave it alone. She is going to kill you if she finds out about this. Continue with your secret meeting, whatever, but I'm out."


	10. Cold, Dark Blue

After the meeting that Friday Deeks takes a step back. Instead of trying to push her to open up, that day, he hangs back, and just watches her. Unfortunately, when he wakes up the following morning he knows that he can't let it go. No matter how hard he tries the distance she has put between them bothers him to much to let things lie. It's barely seven o'clock when he makes it to her house. He parks his car in front of the sidewalk near her house. He gets out of the car, and makes his way to her door. He knocks on the door, half expecting her to completely ignore him. After a few seconds he hears footsteps. The door comes open, and she just looks at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Kensi I really want to respect your privacy, and give you time to deal with whatever you need to deal with."

She locks eyes with him, "Then why are you here?"

"Because you're my partner, and I am worried about you."

"Deeks..."

"Please," he begs.

"What do you want me to say."

"Anything," he admits.

"Can we talk about this later?"

"No," he shakes his head.

"I don't want to do this," she admits.

"Why don't we go for a walk, and we can just chat?"

"Because you never just chat."

"Kensi, please just talk to me."

She shakes her head, "I can't."

"Try."

She pulls the door closed behind her. She follows him down the sidewalk. He glances at her, as they head down the block.

"Black again?" he questions her.

She looks at her shirt, "This isn't black."

He rolls his eyes, "My bad, it's navy blue today."

She falls silent. He studies her body language as they walk. She doesn't say another word. He wonders if she is going to be able to open up to anyone, as they reach the park. She moves towards a bench, and has a seat. He joins her on the bench. She remains tight lipped. He watches her, as she watches the people at the park.

"Kensi, talk to me. You don't have to tell me everything. I don't need every detail. I don't expect you to tell me everything that happened. I just need you to tell me something that reassures me that you're ok."

"I can't," she says softly.

"Can't, or won't, tell me?"

She shakes her had, "I can't reassure you that I am ok, because to be honest, I'm not."

"Ok. Can you elaborate on that?"

She nods, but still doesn't make eye contact. "Have you ever had something happen that makes you question everything?"

"I think we had this discussion before."

"After everything that happened in Brazil, there are some days I wake up, and I don't know who I am."

"Kensi, Sam is alright. You did what you had to."

"This isn't about Sam. This is about me."

"Ok."

"I used to live for my job. Now I don't know if I even want to be at NCIS."

"Why not?"

"The mission in Brazil made me question everything that I stand for. It challenged everything that I thought I knew about myself. I don't know what I want. I don't know if this is it."

"Kensi you are an amazing agent."

"It's more than that."

"Everyone has baggage. Everyone has scars," as the words fall from his mouth, he instantly regrets the poor word choice.

"It is difficult to realize what people will do to stay alive, on either side of the fence. It turns men into monsters."

"Kensi no one thinks that you are a monster."

"I shot Sam. I shot to kill him."

"You didn't have a choice."

She shakes her head, "There is always a choice."

"If you regret it so much then why did you do it?"

She shakes her head, and swallows hard, and then lies through her teeth, "I don't know."

He reads the conflicted look on her face, "Don't know, or won't say?"

"Deeks one day I might be able to talk about this, but it isn't today."

"When?"

"I don't know when."

"So, maybe never?"

She shakes her head, "Sooner rather than later."

* * *

He stares at a picture. He has always prided himself on being a good man, despite some of the bad things that he has done in the name of service to his country. He has made questionable choices in order to protect his country. But the one person that means the most to him, is the one that he can't protect.

He stares at a picture of his wife, and thinks of the ways that he has failed as a husband. He wonders if she has any idea how many ways he has let her down. He wishes he could see her in person, to apologize, but in all honesty he isn't sure that he can face her. He isn't sure that he can look her in the eyes, and tell the truth. He doesn't even know if he can look her in the eyes at all. To tell the truth, or lie? He isn't sure which is worse. He wants to protect her, but he is afraid that she will hate him, either way.

He sets the picture down, and his mind wanders to another face. Another woman he couldn't protect. His temporary partner, his teammate, his fake wife. What hurts the most is that he is the one the she needed protection from. He branded her, scarring her for life. He is the one who inflicted emotional anguish. He thinks about the look on her face, as he forced her to pull the trigger on the gun she had buried in his chest.

* * *

_He forces her to pull the trigger, completely aware that she isn't in on his plan. This is the only way. She couldn't know what was about to happen. He lies there, as the gun falls to the floor. The color drains from her face, as she presses her hand against his chest. She stares at his face with a look of sorrow, and regret. He can see the pain in her expression, as if he has just driven a knife into her chest. He know that the look on her face is one he can never forget. He instantly regrets not filling her in on the plan. He can see that this is one moment that will be burned into her brain forever. _


	11. Hot Water

_He looks over at her. She sits in the seat next to him, on the plane. She looks out the window. She has barely said two words to him the entire plane ride. _

_"Kensi?"_

_She looks over at him, "Hm?"_

_"Are we ok?"_

_She simply nods._

* * *

She sits on the couch, painting her toenails. She is surrounded by the silence of an empty house. She finishes painting, and allows her toes to rest on the coffee table to dry. She knows that she can't hide this for much longer. She knows that the shelf-life of her secret has nearly been reached. It is about to expire. She knows that all too soon everything is going to change. The truth will come out, eventually. After her toes dry she grabs her shoes, and heads out the door, with her car keys in hand. She drives aimlessly for over an hour, trying to clear her mind.

* * *

_He can see the look of horror in her eyes. She writhes in pain, because she's just been branded. His eyes focus on her. He barely hears half of what their target is say. As he begins to speak, again, Kensi's eyes widen. Sam turns, to look at him._

_"Show me how much you love your wife..."_

* * *

He is at the shooting range. It isn't difficult to imagine the targets with a face. The face of a man whose words still haunt him. _Show me how much you love your wife..._ A challenge. A test to prove they were who they said they were. He reminds himself they were undercover, they did what had to be done. But he still can't stomach the thought. He still can't justify it to himself, because no one person is worth what they went through. They paid a price that is far too high. A price that neither one of them will probably ever speak of.

Instead there will be long, awkward silences between them. There will be things that they never say to each other. There will be nightmares, and flashbacks in the middle of a seemingly normal day. He doesn't who to hate more, their target, or himself. He empties his magazine, and his target moves towards him. He takes the cardboard target down, and studies it.

* * *

She puts in for vacation for Monday. After her run she jumps in the shower. She finishes her morning routine, and slaps on her watch. She realizes what time it is, and heads out the door. She climbs into the car, and puts the key into the ignition. She takes a deep breath, and puts her seat belt on. She drives across town. She feels nervous as she parks the car. She closes the car door, and slips the keys into the pocket of her jeans. Her hands are sweaty, as she walks towards the sidewalk.

Deeks checks his watch. It's after eight thirty, and now he is really starting to get concerned. He thinks about something she said to him, earlier. _It isn't about Sam._ His mind flashes to the conversation they had just a few days earlier, where she basically told him she was questioning everything, and didn't know if she could do it anymore. His mind travels to a dark place. He grabs his car keys, and he heads to her house.

When she gets home she locks her gun in the safe. Before she can do anything else someone is knocking on her door. She checks the peephole, and furrows her brow, in confusion. She unlocks the door, and pulls it open. She shakes her head.

"What are you doing here? You should be at work."

"So should you," he comments.

"I took the day off," she reveals.

"Oh. Why?"

"I had some things that I needed to do."

"What kinds of things?"

"Just errands. Why do you seem so concerned?"

"I am your partner and it is my job to worry about you."

"I'm fine," she insists.

"You had to take an entire day off to do errands? Kensi you had all weekend to run errands."

"Deeks why are you here?"

"I was just thinking about..."

She cuts him off, "Let me just stop you, right there. Thinking gets you into trouble."

He shakes his head, "I was thinking about what you said."

"And?"

"The more I thought about it, the more red flags went up."

"Red flags? What are you talking about?"

"You said you didn't know if you could do it anymore. You said you didn't know if you wanted to be at NCIS anymore."

"Deeks that was just me talking. I am not leaving NCIS."

"I am not worried about that."

"Then why are you here with a frenzied look on your face?"

"I am afraid that you're leaving me."

She shakes her head, "I just told you that I am not leaving NCIS."

"I know."

"Then why are you worried about me leaving you?"

"Because I am afraid that you are leaving me, for good."

"What are you talking about?"

"Leaving this world."

"Unbelievable. You think that I am leaving this world?"

"After the conversation that we had Saturday, you can see how I would think that."

She shakes her head in disbelief, "No, I can't."

"Really?"

"You thought that I took today off, so that I could take my own life?"

He doesn't say anything. He just searches her eyes for answers.

"I can assure you that I didn't."

"How do I know that? I don't know what happened in Brazil. You have left out a lot of details."

"I would never do that."

"How do I know that?"

"Because it is selfish."

"I worry about you."

"You don't have to worry about that, ok?"

"How do I know that? You said that you were questioning everything."

"Not for the reasons that you think."

"Why did you take today off?"

"Again, not for the reasons that you think."

"Then explain it to me," he begs.


	12. Burns Like A Knife To The Heart

"I had an appointment," she reveals.

"With a shrink?" he hopes.

"No."

"What kind of an appointment?"

"A doctor's appointment."

"Oh. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she confirms.

"You took the entire day off, for a doctor's appointment? That doesn't make any sense."

She grabs something off the stand in her entryway. She hands him the piece of paper. He looks at the piece of paper, and furrows his brow.

"I don't understand, it's a blank piece of paper."

She rolls her eyes, "Flip it over."

He flips it over, and studies it closely. "I still don't understand."

"Really?!"

"No I don't understand," he admits.

"You are completely ridiculous," she comments.

"Maybe you can explain it."

"I'm pregnant."

He flips the picture, "Oh. It was upside down."

She allows a moment of silence for what she's just said to sink in. He looks at the picture, and then he looks at her.

"What?!"

"You heard me."

He shakes his head, "Now I really don't understand."

"I know."

"This is what is making you question everything?"

"Yeah," she nods.

"Oh. We had a conversation about your biological clock ticking, before. You indicated to me that it wouldn't be a problem. You said that I didn't have to worry about that. Did you change your mind?"

She shakes her head, "No."

"But..."

"I never wanted this. I never asked for it. This was never part of the plan," she admits.

"This is why you've been wearing black?"

She simply nods.

"You're not in mourning?"

She shakes her head.

"You are just struggling with how you are going to make this work, with your career?"

She doesn't answer.

"I am jumping to conclusions here, and assuming that you have already decided what you are going to do. Do you know what you're going to do?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"I guess I shouldn't assume that you are keeping it. How far along are you? Wait you've only been back for three weeks. You were in Brazil for three and a half months. Three weeks hardly seems like enough time for you to get pregnant, find out, and decide what you're doing. Which means this happened while you were in Brazil," he points out.

"True."

"You met some tourist, and had a one night fling?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"You decided to live your undercover identity, and..."

She cuts him off, "No."

"So..."

"I don't want to talk about it. The how is not that important."

"Did it happen before you left?"

She knows that she could lie, and he would probably never know the difference, but she shakes her head, choosing to tell the truth, "No."

"How far along are you?"

"Far enough," she admits.

"Far enough, for what?"

"To not be worried about telling you."

"So, what? Like three, or four months?" he guesses.

She nods, "Yeah, something like that."

"Kensi why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I couldn't."

"You could have told me," he insists.

"I didn't tell anyone."

"You were undercover with Sam for months, and you didn't tell him?"

"I didn't want to jeopardize our mission."

"That is a shitty excuse."

"I know."

"So what is your plan?"

"I don't really have one," she reveals.

"Are you keeping it?"

"You have to understand that this is not something I ever wanted."

"And that's ok."

"There wasn't anything I could do about it half a world away. I would have been putting my mission, myself, and my partner in jeopardy. I knew that was not an option."

"And now?"

"I don't know how to make it work."

"That's ok."

"How am I supposed to do this on my own?"

He shrugs.

"I don't know either."

"Why are you telling me any of this? If you aren't planning on keeping it, why are you telling me?"

"I never said that I wasn't."

"Oh."

"I just said that I don't know how to do it. I didn't say I wasn't."

"You've got to be scared shitless."

"Why do you think that I didn't tell you?"

"Is there anything that I can do?"

"Don't tell anyone."

"How long can you keep it a secret, Kensi?"

"As long as possible."

"At least now I understand why you haven't been yourself, lately."


	13. Burn Out

"I don't know how to do this. I have absolutely no maternal instincts."

"Then why are you?"

"If I understood that, I would explain it to you."

He leaves her, and heads back to work. She can tell that he is satisfied with her answer, and will leave her alone, for awhile. She closes the door, and is surrounded by the sound of her own thoughts. She is too quickly consumed by her own memories.

* * *

_He knocks on the bathroom door._

_"Are you going to come to breakfast?"_

_"I'm not hungry."_

_"You have to eat something."_

_"Bring me back something, I have a couple of errands I need to run."_

_"You've been up for hours, and already got your run in. What more could you possibly need to do?"_

_"Girl things," she lies._

_"Enough said, I'll be at breakfast."_

_She stands in the bathroom, waiting for the sound of the door closing. When it finally does she breathes a sigh of relief. She stares at the phone in her hand. The date on the screen reminds her that they have already been undercover for just a few days shy of six weeks. She places the phone on the counter. She looks at herself in the mirror, in complete disbelief. She stares at the empty box on the counter, next to her. Her stomach twists into knots, and she feels as if she is going to hurl, again. The nauseous feeling doesn't subside, but she doesn't vomit. She stares at the tissue lying on the counter, next to the box. She carefully unfolds it, and stares at the object lying on it. The bright pink plus sign stares up at her, taunting her. _

_She ignores her emotions, and puts herself on autopilot. She tosses the box in the trash. She pulls the bag, and replaces it with a new one, off the maid's cart. She drops the bag of trash into the bag on the cart._

* * *

She sits on the couch, in silence. She looks down at her loose fitting t-shirt. Is amazing what one single article of clothing can hide. It covers the scarred flesh on her chest, from being branded. A scar she never intends to show anyone. It also hides a slowly changing abdomen. The doctor reminds her that despite her muscle tone eventually the fat deposits will take over, and the overall appearance of her body with begin to change. He reminds her that it is a miracle the changes are only subtle so far, and that things can change overnight. She stares at an ultrasound picture, with conflicted emotions. The black and white image is a reminder of a mission gone completely awry. A mission that had wrong turns that started the first days they were there.

* * *

The following day she is in the car with her partner. He looks over at her, while she drives. He doesn't look at her face, instead his eyes focus on her midsection.

"Stop," she warns.

"I'm not doing anything," he argues.

"Just stop," she insists.

He shifts his glance, looking at her face instead. "Kensi can I ask you something?"

"I have never been able to stop you."

"Have you told Hetty?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"I don't know that I have a choice."

"When are you going to tell her?"

"At the last possible minute," she admits.

"And, I know that you don't want to talk about how this happened, or even the who."

She cuts him off, "Is there a question there, somewhere?"

"Whoever it is, are you going to tell him?"

"That I'm pregnant?"

"That it's his?"

"No," she answers too quickly.

"And if he finds out?"

She shakes her head, "Deeks I don't want to talk about this."

* * *

_He lies in the king sized bed, next to her. He lies on one side, while she lies on the other. There is enough space between them for another person to fit. As she sleeps she faces him. He thinks about everything that they have been through over the past weeks. He looks at her now, studying her face. He doesn't get the opportunity any other time. During waking hours she won't look at him. She refuses eye contact, for the most part. And, she avoids his glance at all costs. He knows that this assignment is taking its toll on the both of them. He knows there is something she isn't telling him, but he doesn't know what it is. He hopes that things will return to normal, after the mission is over, but he has his doubts._

_She shifts in bed, and he wonders if she's waking. He closes his eyes, trying to pretend that he hasn't been watching her. Her eyes open, and she looks over at him. His eyes are closed, but she knows that he's not asleep. He sleeps almost as little as she does. She rolls onto her other side, to face the window in the room. She glances at the alarm clock. They have hours before they have to be awake. She swallows back the feeling of nausea, and tries to go back to sleep._

* * *

That night she tosses, and turns trying to get comfortable. She wonders if sleep will ever come any easier. She rolls onto her back, and stares up at the ceiling. The house is silent void for the sound of her breathing. She exhales, and decides that sleep will not be coming any time soon. She slips out of bed, and her feet hit the floor. She leaves the room, and heads to the hallway. She pushes the door to the other bedroom open. She is standing in the doorway when she flips the light on. She looks around the room.

It is a disaster. The room is filled with boxes that she has never unpacked. There is a desk on one wall, with a laptop, and a printer sitting on it. In the corner of the room is her gun safe. She heads to closet. She pushes the doors open, and peers inside. She stares at another gun safe, and boxes of legal documents. There is a box in the corner of the closet, on the floor. Inside are awards, meals, and commendations. She steps out of the closet, and looks around the room once again.

A room full of unpacked boxes, and gun safes. It hardly seems appropriate for a child. It is definitely not conventional. The thought of cleaning the room makes her head ache. She reminds herself that she has many months before she has to worry about it. She shakes her head, months. It all seems surreal. This is definitely not the way she pictured things going. This was never part of her plan.


	14. Burning Secrets

The sound of someone knocking on her door nearly makes her jump out of her skin. She turns the light in the room off, and heads towards the door. She looks out the peephole, and unlocks the door. She pulls the door open, and he steps inside. She shakes her head.

"What are you doing here? It's almost two o'clock in the morning." she asks.

"I couldn't sleep," he admits.

"So you came here?"

"I have a feeling that you weren't sleeping either," he answers.

"I wasn't, but that isn't the point. Sam why are you at my house in the middle of the night."

"I came to apologize."

"For what?"

"For everything. We never should have stayed undercover."

"We both wanted that."

He shakes his head, "No we didn't."

"We had orders," she argues.

"We should have said no. Kensi what we went through, what you went through... no one should ever have to go through."

"Sam I don't want to talk about it."

His eyes study her facial expression. "Kensi I feel like you're shutting down."

"Sam I am fine," she lies.

"Fine? I'm not fine, and I didn't have to go through half of what you did."

"Sam I told you, we don't have to talk about it," she insists.

"Kensi I branded you."

"That is what you think about at one thirty in the morning?" she wonders.

"What do you think about this late at night?"

She shakes her head, and avoids eye contact, "It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. I permanently branded you."

"Sam let it go, please."

"Let it go? I didn't have to do that. I could have said no."

"And blown our cover?"

"You are more important than the mission was."

"Sam that is very noble, but I am a big girl I can handle it."

"Maybe you can, but it still keeps me up at night."

"Sam go home," she begs.

"And that isn't the only thing that keeps me up at night," he reveals.

"Shouldn't you be at home, with your wife?"

"She's not home, you know that. She works just as much as I do."

"I don't know how you do it."

"It's not easy," he replies.

"Sam go home."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I keep thinking about the look on your face."

She furrows her brow, "Now you're being creepy."

He shakes his head, "I didn't mean it like that. I meant the look of terror on your face when he asked..." he trails off.

"When he asked you to prove how much you loved your wife?" she supplies.

"That isn't something I can ever forget."

"Sam let's just leave all of that baggage in Brazil."

"I want to."

"Then why are you bringing it up?" she wonders.

"Because I'm sorry."

"You did what you had to do," she argues.

He shakes his head, "No, I didn't have to do that."

"Go home," she begs.

"Kensi I'm sorry. I never should have put you through that. I should have let our covers be blown, and then..."

She cuts him off. She looks him dead in the eyes, "And then what, Sam? What do you think they would have done to us if we had blown our covers? We would probably still be there. They would have tortured us."

"They did that already."

"Worse," she argues.

"How could have been any worse for you? How could anything have possibly gone worse for you?"

"It could have been someone other than you," she admits.

"That is not reassuring."

"Sam stop apologizing. You did what had to be done to keep us alive. Go home, and go to sleep. Please."

"Fine," he agrees.

She closes the door behind him, as he steps out. She locks the door. She turns, and stands with her back against the door. She lowers herself to the floor. Her back rests against the door, as she draws her knees to her chest. She can't keep from crying any longer. She lets the tears fall.

* * *

As he drives home all he can think about is the look on her face. He kills the music, and reflects in silence. He pulls into his driveway, and puts the car into park. He doesn't get out immediately. He sits in the car, marinating in his own thoughts. Her behavior lately, and the look on her face tonight, tells him that she's hiding something. Something big. He wonders if he can ever repair things between them.

Instead of awkward silences between them at work, maybe they could work together again. He shakes his head. After Brazil he doubts she would want to work with him. He worries about her. She is his co-worker. She is like a little sister. He clenches his fists, and his nostrils flare.

* * *

She crawls into her bed. She doesn't bother climbing under the covers. She just lays on top of them, in a ball. She cries in the privacy of her room. She tries not to allow her mind to wander, but she can never stop it. She cries until sleep overtakes her.

The sound of the alarm clock brings her back to reality all too soon. She forces herself to get out of bed, and climb into the shower. The soap suds run towards the drain. She looks at her polished toes. She swallows hard, and her glance shifts. She stares at her stomach. She places her hand on it. She wills herself not to cry. It proves to be futile. The tears trickle down her face, like the soap suds trickled into the drain.


	15. Cold Beginnings

They chase after a suspect. She hears shots being fired, and her instincts kick in. She returns fire. She ducks behind a parked car. She leans forward, peeking out from behind the car. A bullet hits her in the shoulder, and she leans backwards, despite the fact that she is in a squatting position. Her partner doesn't take his eyes off of her. The suspect flees in a car, down the street in the opposite direction. Deeks makes his way over to her.

By the time he reaches her she is sitting on the ground, leaning up against the bumper of the car. He squats down next to her.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine."

"Take your vest off, let me see," he insists.

"I'll be fine."

He touches her dark colored shirt.

"Kensi you are not fine, you are bleeding. You got hit."

He heart races as she thinks about what he's just said.

"We let him get away."

"Sam and Callen are waiting down the street for him. Don't worry about it."

"We let him get away," she repeats.

He pulls at the velcro on her vest. She pushes his hand away.

"Don't!"

"Come on, I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No, I'm fine."

"Kensi, get in the car!"

Fifteen minutes later she's sitting in a hospital bay. The trauma team enters the room. The nurse looks at Kensi's vest.

"Can I take your vest off?" she asks.

"I can do it."

"Ma'am you just took a bullet to the shoulder you are going to need some help."

Kensi simply nods. The nurse carefully pulls the velcro tabs. Kensi leans forward, and the nurse slips the vest off her.

"We need to take your shirt off to get a better look. Once we take a look we're going to take a couple of x-rays too."

Kensi shakes her head, "You can't."

The nurse pulls out a pair of scissors. "It's easier if we cut your shirt off."

"You can't."

The nurse stops, "You don't want me to cut it off?"

Kensi shakes her head, "You can't take an x-ray."

"We can talk about that in a minute, ok? Let me get this shirt off you."

"Ok."

The nurse cuts the t-shirt off of her. Kensi wears a dark camisole underneath. The bullet wound is to her left shoulder. The doctor enters the room. He confers with the nurse, and then takes a look at the wound.

"I can see it," he points out.

He takes a seat on a stool. He carefully removes the bullet from her shoulder.

"We're going to do a couple of x-rays to make sure that there is no damage to your bone, and then we'll stitch you up."

"No x-rays," Kensi answers.

The nurse looks at her. Her eyes drift to Kensi's stomach. She returns her glance to Kensi's face. She turns to the doctor.

"Is the bullet intact?" the nurse questions.

"Yes, it appears to be visually intact," the resident responds.

"Then we should do an MRI instead, don't you think?"

"You're right," the young doctor nods, "An MRI without contrast dye should be fine. We can get a look at the surrounding tissue too."

A couple of hours later Kensi is discharged. Her shoulder is stitched up, and covered. Deeks leads her out of the hospital into the car. She begrudgingly hands him her car keys. They head back to headquarters. Kensi heads to her desk.

"Miss Blye I need to see you in my office," Hetty tells her.

"Ok," she agrees.

Luckily she keeps an extra change of clothes in her car, and she has a clean shirt on. She vacates her seat at her desk, and climbs the stairs of Hetty's office. Hetty sits behind her desk, in her chair. She looks at Kensi.

"Close the door," she instructs.

Kensi closes the door. Hetty points to the seat in front of her.

"Have a seat."

Kensi reluctantly takes a seat.

"I hear that you had a pretty eventful day," Hetty comments.

"I'm fine."

"You were shot," Hetty points out.

"It's just a few stitches, I'm fine."

"A few inches to the left, and you wouldn't be sitting here."

"I was wearing my vest."

"It could have just as easily been a shot to the head."

"Why are you lecturing me?"

"Because you have been distracted lately. Now is when you tell me what is going on."

"Hetty I am fine."

"You are going to take the week."

"I don't need a week."

"And you have to talk to the psychologist before you can return to duty."

"I'm fine."

"Please tell me what is going on with you. Kensi you are a good agent, but you have been distracted lately. I don't want something like this to happen again. I am afraid that it will, if you don't get your head on straight."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know what happened in Brazil, you don't have to tell me, but you have to deal with it, do you understand me?"

"Yes."

"You can go."

"Hetty?"

"Yes Miss Blye."

"There is something that I need to tell you."

"Then by all means, tell me."

"I don't really know where to start."

"At the beginning. That is usually a good place."

"I don't know how to tell you this," Kensi clarifies.

"Just spit it out, Miss Blye."

"I'm pregnant."


	16. Cold Blooded

"Excuse me?" Hetty cocks one eyebrow.

"I'm pregnant."

"I heard you. How long have you known, Miss Blye?"

"A while."

"Could you define a while?"

"I would prefer not to."

"Why am I just finding out about this now?"

Kensi avoids eye contact. She swallows hard, "It is not as it I planned this. I never wanted this. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I just needed time to figure things out for myself."

"And the father?"

Kensi shakes her head, "What about him?"

"How does he fit into all of this?"

"He doesn't. He will not be involved."

"By choice?"

"Hetty it's complicated."

"You haven't told him," she realizes.

"No."

"Miss Blye look at me," Hetty suggests.

Kensi looks up at her, "When you are here I need you here. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Today is an example of what happens when you are distracted."

"I wasn't distracted."

"Your entire life is about to change. You have a big decision to make. What if you decide that this job is too much of a risk?"

Kensi furrows her brow, "What are you asking me? Hetty the only thing that I have ever known is protecting, and serving my country. Why would I decide that this job is too much? I have always made it very clear where my loyalties lie. Why are you questioning me now?"

"Because a baby changes everything," she points out.

"I am sure that I will have to make some adjustments, but everything is going to be the same as it has always been."

"You're in denial."

"I'm not," she argues.

"Your partner..."

Kensi cuts her off, "Is not the father if that is what you are about to ask."

"I wasn't going to ask that."

"Oh."

"Does he know? Have you told him."

"Yes."

"And your other teammates? Have you told any of them?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I thought I should tell you first."

"And yet it seems as if you weren't in a hurry to tell me."

"Because I knew that when I did you would pull me out of the field. I knew that you would look at me as a liability instead of an asset."

"You know why you can't be in the field. Today is a prime example of why you shouldn't be in the field. It is too dangerous."

"I can handle myself."

"Those are the rules."

"Fine."

"Miss Blye why didn't you tell me about this sooner? What is really going on?"

"I never imagined having a family of my own. It was never something that I was particularly interested in. I didn't plan this. It really couldn't have happened at a worse time. I spent weeks, and weeks trying to figure out what to do. I am going to be a single parent to a son, and it is going to be my job to protect him. It is going to be my job to do everything for him, and that scares the hell out of me."

"I want you to take at least a few days."

"I am fine."

"Miss Blye it is standard protocol."

"Whatever," Kensi pushes her chair out, and storms out of the room. She stops at her desk to grab her stuff. Sam is heading into the building as she is heading out. He stops her.

"Where are you going?"

"Hetty wants me to take a few days."

"For getting shot? Since when does she ever enforce that rule?"

Kensi shrugs, "I don't know. I don't really want to talk about it."

"Okay," he steps aside, and lets her go.

She heads to the parking lot, towards her car. Sam enters the NCIS building. Callen looks at him, as he heads towards his desk.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam nods.

"Are you sure?"

"Something's not right," he admits.

"With the case?"

He shakes his head, "With Kensi. There is something going on with her."

"She just got shot."

"More than that."

"Did you ask Deeks?"

"He won't tell me anything."

"You think he knows something?"

"Look we've reached a standstill in the case right now. I am going to go talk to Kensi. Call me if we get any leads."

"Yeah, okay," Callen agrees.

* * *

She's barely made it inside when she hears a car door being closed outside. She looks out the window, and sees Sam heading up her sidewalk. For a moment she contemplates hiding. Instead, she goes to the door. She pulls it open before he even has the chance to knock.

"What are you doing here?" she questions him.

"I wanted to talk to you. Can I come in?"

She steps aside, and allows him to enter the room.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Kensi what is going on with you? You have been distant from everyone since we got back from Brazil. I know that we both went through some experiences that are hard to forget, but..."

She swallows back her emotions, and blinks away tears. "Don't. Please just don't. Sam I don't want to talk about this now, or ever."

"Please," he begs.


	17. Fiery Truth

"Five months ago we went to Brazil for an undercover mission. It was supposed to be simple. We were supposed to be in, and out, and home in no time. Nothing went the way that we planned it," she reminds him.

"I know, Kensi, I was there too."

"I thought that I could do this. I really believed that I could figure out a way to keep this quiet. I hoped that I wouldn't have to face this, face you."

"Face me? Kensi I am the one who should have a hard time facing you. I was the one who..." he trails off.

"We both did what he had to. We have to live with that for the rest of our lives. We have to face the consequences."

"Maybe I should transfer to another office, another city. Maybe that would be easier for everyone involved. You shouldn't have to work beside me every single day for the foreseeable future. Every single time I see you I think about Brazil. I know that it can't be any easier for you. You shouldn't have to relive what happened there. It isn't fair."

"Sam I don't want you to transfer."

"You don't have to be strong all of the time, Kens. It's okay if you don't want me to be there anymore. If it's too much I would understand. No one has to know the truth. I can find a reason to transfer. I just want you to be okay."

"Sam I know that you're trying to make this easier, but it is never going to be easy. It is always going to be complicated. You are married, and you have kids. We made choices under duress that neither of us wanted to make."

"I could have stopped it," he insists.

"How? How could you have stopped it? If you hadn't done what you did what would have happened? It would have been much worse for the both of us. Even if you put a bullet in his brain they would have come after us. They would have tortured us, and put us in the ground. There would have been no mercy, no restraint. We wouldn't have accomplished our mission. What would we have accomplished?"

"We could have walked away. We could have walked out of that building that day, and gotten on a plane, and came home. If we had you wouldn't have to relive that hell every single day."

"I am fine."

"You are not fine. Kensi I branded you. It is a physical reminder that is never going to go away. You are always going to have to look at that, and think about what happened that day, what I did."

"If you hadn't he would have restrained you, and made you..." she trails off, fighting off tears.

"Made me what?"

"He would have made you watch while he took what he wanted. Did you see the look on his face when he realized you weren't going to let him have what he wanted? I have no doubt that when he was finished he would have killed us both. He would have known that we weren't who we said we were."

"It doesn't make it right," his nostrils flare, in anger.

"I know."

"It doesn't make it okay. I abandoned everything that I stand for that day. I chose the job over my partner, and that can never be forgiven. I chose my job over my wedding vows. What I did was inexcusable."

"You didn't have a choice."

"I am not that kind of man. I am not the kind of man who is cold, and..."

She cuts him off, "Why do you think that he made you do it? He wanted to test your loyalty, and your dedication. He knew no matter what choice you made he was going to break you. He wanted to get into your head."

"There were other ways. Kensi I am so sorry. I am so sorry that I hurt you. I wish that I could take that day back. I wish that we never went on that mission. I don't expect you to forgive me as long as I live. I know that you probably hate me, hell I hate me."

"Sam I don't hate you."

"How can you not?"

* * *

_Sam looks at Kensi. She focuses on his face, and she nods. She tries to bury her emotions, and keep the tears at bay. He steps closer to her. He presses his lips against her ear. He whispers._

_"You don't have to do this."_

_She places her hand on his cheek. His lips still linger near her ear. She whispers to him._

_"We don't have a choice."_

* * *

"Because we didn't have a choice," she explains to him.

"Did you ever talk to anyone?"

"About what?"

"What happened?"

"What is there to talk about?"

"A professional," he clarifies.

"No. I didn't talk to a shrink."

"Maybe you should."

"I am not the only one who was there."

"You were the one who was violated."

"You're the one who is have a total identity crisis."

"How can you be keeping it together at all right now?"

"Because I don't have a choice."

"Do you really expect me to believe that you aren't falling apart too, even just a little bit?"

"I have spent so much time trying to figure out why this happened. I can admit that I went somewhere really dark for awhile, but I am okay."

"How can you be okay?"

"I told you I don't have a choice."

"Why not?"

"I have to be strong. I have to keep it together."

"For who? Not for me. Not for your partner. It is okay to fall apart. You have to fall apart in order to put the pieces back where they go."

"I have to be strong for," she pauses, "my son."

He furrows his brow, and shoots her a questioning look, "Your what?"

She swallows hard, "My son."

"Kensi you don't have a son."

"Yet," she responds to his comment.

"Yet? What are you saying?"

"Sam I'm pregnant."

"What?!"

"I am pregnant."

"You're far enough along to know that it's a boy?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugs, "I didn't know where to start."

He almost cracks a smile, but then a dark thought crosses his mind, "Are you happy about this? Kensi exactly how far along are you?"


	18. One Cold Four Letter Word

"It doesn't really matter," she insists.

"It doesn't? Kensi I need you to be straight with me. When did this happen?"

"You know, I really don't want to talk about that."

"Unless you and Deeks hooked up before we went to Brazil..."

She cuts him off, "We didn't."

"Kensi what are you telling me?"

"I am telling you that I got pregnant when we were in Brazil."

He shakes his head, and his forehead wrinkles, "No don't tell me that. Please don't tell me that."

"I am so sorry."

"Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for? You didn't do anything wrong."

"It doesn't change the facts," she points out.

"I know."

"You're married. You broke your vows to save me. You are the one whose entire life could come crashing down around you, because of this. Sam I am not going to let that happen. You aren't going to let that happen. No one else is ever going to know the truth. We are not going to tell anyone else. Do you understand me?"

"I don't know if I can do that," he argues.

"You're telling me that you are willing to give up everything you have for this? Sam that isn't fair to you. It's not fair to anyone. I don't expect you to give up anything. I am not going to let your marriage crumble because of this. You can't tell her."

"Can't tell her? Kensi how can I not?"

"You have to listen to me," she begs, gripping his shoulders, "I need you to leave here today, and never think about this again. Let it go."

"Let it go? Kensi how can I let this go? I already feel like a monster for what happened. Now you're telling me that you're carrying my child, and you want me to walk away?"

"Sam I don't want you to walk away from your wife, and your kids for this. You don't owe me anything. I can do this on my own. It was my choice to do this. It was my decision, not yours."

"What about my son?"

"I am never going to tell you that you can't see him."

"What will you tell the rest of the world?"

"That I had a one night stand with a guy I met at a bar in Brazil. No one ever has to know the truth."

"What will you tell our son?"

"One day, when he is old enough to understand," she pauses, "I'll lie."

"And say what?"

She swallows hard, "Do you really want me to tell him the truth?"

"I don't even want to tell me the truth."

"So I'll stretch the truth."

"You're going to make him resent you. The truth always has a way of coming out. I don't want you to base your relationship with your child on a lie."

"Sam I am not going to make you walk away from your life for something that wasn't your fault."

His nostrils flare, in anger, "How is it not my fault? I am responsible for getting you pregnant, aren't I?"

"Yes, but..."

He cuts her off, "But, nothing. Kensi I am the one who is responsible. I forced you to..." he trails off.

"You didn't have a choice."

His voice cracks, "I had a choice, and I made the wrong one. Let's stop pretending that this is something it's not. Let's just stop trying to conceal the truth from ourselves. Can we just call this what it was?"

She blinks, "It was the only choice we had to make it out of there alive."

"Kensi, I think that I would rather be dead."

"Sam please don't say that."

"I never meant for this to happen. I never thought that I was capable of something like that. Every single day I wish that I could take back what I did to you. What I did is going to haunt me for the rest of my life. How am I supposed to live with myself, everyday, knowing that for the rest of your life you are going to have to look at a reminder of what I did?"

"Sam, you're right. You are responsible for this. You are responsible for the fact that I am standing here right now, and not in the ocean somewhere off the coast of Brazil. You are responsible for creating this child, and I am not sorry for that."

"How can you not be? How can you be standing here in front of me right now? Why do you refuse to hate me?"

"You chose our lives. I will always be grateful for that."

"How can you be grateful after what I did to you?"

"Sam..." she tries to keep him from where he's headed.

"You can call it what you want, Kensi. You can try to pretend like you're okay. You can put on a brave face, and act like this doesn't have you questioning everything that you stand for, but I know better. You call it survival, but that isn't what it was."

"Don't say it," she begs.

"It was rape."

She falls silent. Her face twists in torment as she looks at him. She walks past him into the living room. Without a word she lowers herself to the couch. He joins her, sitting on the cushion next to hers. He leans forward, pressing his elbows into his knees. He buries his head in his hands. He breaks the silence, looking over at her, realizing that she is on the verge of tears.

"There were other ways. What I did, I can never forgive myself for. We have been back for months now. Everyday you put on a brave face, and pretend that you're okay. You might be able to fool everyone else, hell you might even be able to fool yourself, some days, but you aren't fooling me. I can see the look in your eyes. It is the same look you had that night, when you realized what he meant. I saw fear. In that moment you weren't afraid of him, you were afraid of me."

She shakes her head, and the tears she's been holding back begin to fall, "No."

"None of this is fair to you. Kensi you don't have to do this. You don't have to go through with this. I don't even like my reflection in the mirror, I can't understand why you would entertain the possibility of working with me every day for the foreseeable future. I won't put you through that. I am going to leave."

"Sam I don't want you to leave."

"How can you say that?"

"You only think about your actions, but what would have happened if you had chosen differently? You would have spent the last moments of our lives watching that sick son of a bitch..." she trails off.

"How could that be any worse? I branded you, I..." he can't bring himself to say it, again.

"He would not have shown any mercy, or restraint."


End file.
